Hero
Hari is my hero. When I met Hari it was very briefly thru an old friend named Bret. He was really quiet. I figured that was because he is Japanese. Hey, I was like 10 and stupid being raised in an extremely sheltered community and lifestyle. I knew nothing. But we became friends later in Jr. High. He used to draw me really cool pictures of giant robots and superheroes and motorcycles. He is an excellent artist. Again, I thought it was because he is Japanese. Can't all people of Japan draw that good? Through Hari I met a whole range of new people too vast in number to name here, but it really was for me like 2 worlds colliding... in a good way. Because Hari and I lived just down the street from one another, we began hanging out quite a bit. I began to admire him. I learned he wasn't always so quiet. I liked visiting his house because you had to take off your shoes at the front door. His Mom was so nice to me, making me hamburgers for dinner when everyone else was eating fish and squares of seaweed that tasted like crate paper to me. I also remember some long stringy black or brown stuff that I swear I later saw aliens eating on Star Trek. But the culture shock of visiting his home was amazing. We would watch Japanese cartoons that were so bloody and gory and these were for kids! They were all in Japanese and so Hari or one of his little brothers would kind of throw me a bone at what the characters were saying, but I began to get the gist. Mostly they just screamed and shot big balls of energy at each other and them plunged their fingers into each other and blood would flow and their veins would pop. All very intense. But it was also with Hari that our careers of movie making began. I'd played with video cameras before and had fallen in love with them. My mom had been able to obtain one thru her work every once in a while and I would use it the whole time it was at my house. But Hari's family owned one! I swear we probably put more mileage on that poor camera and the family's station wagon than than their entire family did. I will talk more in detail about some these creations in other articles, but Hari had become like the group's producer in a way. He provided the camera, transportation and more often than not... ideas of what to do with both. That is when we came up with the first ever trip to California. Just us, a group of 16-year-old boys driving a green station wagon all the way down to a little town north of San Diego called Oceanside where I found a Motel 6 with cheap nightly rates. As soon as Hari and I had Hari'd dad convinced we could handle it, the official go had been given and it was me and Hari traveling to each set of parents of our buddies to convince them to let their sons accompany us on this fantastic opportunity. Scott's were the toughest to convince but I think an act of provanince occurred gave them courage to let Scott go with us. I believe that their discussion was still mulling whilst we packed Scott's bags into car and actually began to drive off. And so we bundle up into the station wagon. 3 people including the driver in the front seat. 3 passengers comfortably seated in the middle row and 3 people comfortably lounging in the back compartment where typical bags and suitcases might be stacked or stowed. Many of those items were instead tied to the exterior luggage rack on the roof of the station wagon. This story may need to be continued later at a date when my nightly medications haven't seen fit to make all the keys on my keyboard seem like the cobblestones on the pathway to somewhere that really what to get to but then I look down at the keys, these freaky cobblestone steps and I think... there aren't that many to get me there. Its not the number of steps, its the order of the steps, for you may take the same damn steps over and over in your life and never get anyway... or you can use those steps as a way get to other places, make yourself more than you ever thought you could be, be who you've always wanted to be. Hero showed us the way. He didn't exactly lead the way and he participated as much as he guided. Our lack of absolute leadership was perhaps more strength for us than it would for people in the military forces. Each of are vastly different inside and out. Certain aspects cross and meet and we find serious connections to one another that for me ultimately led me to trust. I trust this person. I trusted Haruyoshi with my life. And in my memory he did save it a number of times. Simply turning the wheel left when John had sweerved right, we both missed the uniquely stopped car in the middle of the downhill side of the free way junction. The speed at which our team with Hari and the team with John were descending was far beyond the safety logic. It had gone into game mode where video game physics had taken over and nothing was real. Car One, middle lane going 65 MPH downhill on a curve in a light rain at dark. Car Two was Hero's white Nissan peopled with a few of the regular irregulars, following Car One very closely. Reason could have been cute girls, neonazi scumbags who had pissed off Hari or perhaps just a very bad driver. Car Three was John's Firebird Trans-Am his Dad had given to him on his 18th birthday. The car from Smokey & The Bandit. I was in this car. Following extremely extremely close to Hari and possibly even faster than was Hari following Car One. Car One suddenly just stopped in the middle lane, sliding for a few feet in the rain, red brake lights shooting streaks of light into the night. I forsaw (as I great forseer I am) two possibilities: Hari goes right, John goes right and Two and Three collide into uninterestingness. Same on the left. But what did happen was wicked cool! At the exact same time as if previously choreographed Hari went right and John went left. Like an eagle's wings splitting apart at the exact same moment in order to effect the next wing thrust necessary to maintain flight, the two cars glided around Car One and things went slomo. This is standard when something happens that you know is so uber cool that you have to remember it better, so you mind slows it down for a better bit of study and such. What happened after that was a complete mystery to me. Don't know, don't care. I had my moment for the evening. Hari and I used to take these drives out to the valley west of us. Very little population but a couple chicks we licked lived out there. We'd talk about the future, what mattered to us, what we wanted. Deep stuff. Then we'd get out and pee off the side of the road and drive home. I don't get to see Hero that often and when I do we both promise we'll do this again more often. And at least for my part, I really do want to. I miss him. He's become a fine man, an adult and father. I'm a good dad, got a job, squeek by with my bills from time to time but reasonable content. Hari deserves all the happiness in the world and he will do whatever it takes so his family gets it. I love you Haruyoshi and I'm so glad to know. :) Category:Profiles